


Holding Hands In the Dark

by littlelionheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3x07, Boyd's Death, Derek and Isaac are mentioned in passing, Established Relationship, F/M, currents, mentions of Erica's death, sort of, yeah it's sappy i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelionheart/pseuds/littlelionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d blush and she’d kiss his cheek, leaving whatever shade of lipstick she was wearing that day branded there. </p><p>The thought doesn’t last long though. Derek’s claws are making it hard to concentrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Hands In the Dark

Boyd is a smart guy. He may not be Lydia Martin, but he’s in the top ten percent of his class and has made the honor roll since he was in grade school. An errant thought about how she always teased him about how she lucked out by getting a guy with brains and a bod runs through his head. He’d blush and she’d kiss his cheek, leaving whatever shade of lipstick she was wearing that day branded there. The thought doesn’t last long though. Derek’s claws are making it hard to concentrate.

He knows he’s dying the second the aforementioned claws sink into his gut and smells the coppery scent of his own blood, which is now blooming red across his white shirt. Anatomy might not have been his favorite subject, but he knows what’s there and what’s probably got multiple puncture wounds. His stomach, intestines, lungs… heart. Derek’s claws have managed to hit all, so Boyd knows. He knows he’s done. He doesn’t need to look down to check.

Instead he looks at Derek, the man who was supposed to lead them and teach them and protect them, and then failed spectacularly at it. Boyd’s okay with that, though, and tells Derek as much. He made his peace with it when he’d been locked in that bank vault with her for all those months. They’d talked about it. She hadn’t blamed Derek either. Being imprisoned gives you time to think, if nothing else, time to reevaluate life decisions and figure out just where you think you went wrong. He’s not entirely sure they did go wrong, just got the short end of the stick in a shit situation.

His voice sounds wrong when he talks. Blood is filling up his lungs.

If he’s going to be completely honest with himself, on some level, he knew he was screwed the second she died. He’d never really gotten very far without her, and wherever she’s gone he’s always followed, ever since they met. It only stands to reason it would continue now.

A memory of her pops into his head, several in fact, but they go by too quickly for him to really focus on one. A flash of her reading on the bleachers of the ice rink as he finishes up with the Zamboni, on her stomach and feet in the air as she turns a page; another of her dancing around the abandoned warehouse when she thought no one else was around, her hips swiveling and her voice coming out endearingly off key as she sings along. He wishes there were more of them, that he had more of her; the she wolf with a lion’s mane for hair and a smile that made his knees weak. A girl who was violently beautiful and wanted so badly to live. A girl who loved him back. He wishes he could remember her laugh, especially now, how it would reverberate off the metal walls of the warehouse and fill it with sound. He tries to remember how soft the skin of her hand was when it was locked with is, the way their fingers would lace together, but only catches a hint, a wisp of an almost remembered sensation, but nothing he can latch on to.

Their first full moon together sticks out in his mind, despite the pain and the blood loss.

He’d been terrified, absolutely, heart stoppingly, terrified. He knew there would be pain…. Lots of pain, that he’d want to kill things… people, animals, anything he could get his teeth into, Derek had said, and that scared the shit out of Boyd. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. That wasn’t what he signed up for, though he wasn’t really sure what he exactly signed up for in the first place.

A few hours before Derek said he’d have to chain them up, he’d been sitting in one of the train cars, head between his knees and trying not to throw up. Derek had pulled out the metal ring with spikes that she was going to have to wear, and his entire stomach had turned. Thankfully, he hadn’t thrown up then and there. Isaac never would have let him hear the end of it. He still didn’t know how she did it, snuck up on him, especially in those six inch heels she was so fond of wearing, but she did. Then again she always managed to surprise him, no matter what was happening. She sidled right up next to him and whispered, “Boo,” in his ear, her breath hot on his skin, making him jump a foot and nearly knock his head into one of the poles in the middle of the isle. All she’d done in response was smirk and cock her head to the side, obviously internally laughing.

“You know,” she said, after a beat of silence, “I can hold your hand if you want me to.” At the time, he hadn’t been sure if she’d been mocking him or being serious, but now he thinks it was a bit of both. She had always been that way, he thinks as he bleeds out in Derek’s flooded loft and drowns in the blood pooling in his punctured lungs, a little bit of spiced mixed with an under layer of sweetness. She’d probably punch in him if he said that to her now. Or maybe she’d kiss him. He’ll never know.

She didn’t hold his hand that night, but she did the day after when they were sitting on the floor of her bedroom, completely exhausted from the night before. He thinks that was their start.

Most of that memory is mixed with others, but one thing that does stick out is holding her hand. She’d do it absently after that first night, just grab his out of nowhere, as if she wasn’t even thinking about it. When she did that, it was usually to tug him along behind her on whatever excursion she’d decided to go on. He’d liked that, the way it just felt natural to hold onto each other, like they’d always been that way and would always be forever, back when he thought he’d actually have a forever. Yes, he’s aware how corny that sounds. She’d thought so too, and told him often enough.

The pain is leaving now, and he knows that’s a bad sign, but he can’t really be bothered to care. He already knows he’s dying, it’s not like he was going to panic about it now.

He still wishes she was holding his hand right now, running her thumb along his skin absently, and soothing him.

When he says it was worth it, he isn’t just talking about the rush of the full moon.

He tries to keep it away, but he can’t help it, the memory of the last time she was alive won’t leave him alone, hasn’t left him alone since she died. That image of her reaching out to him, saying his name as he heart stutters and then stops completely, is burned in his brain. It’s the clearest image he has and it’s the last thing he thinks of before he loses consciousness, before he dies.  

Boyd’s a smart guy. Logically, he knows there might not be another side, knows that it probably doesn’t exist at all. But he hopes there is one. And hopes that she’s standing there waiting for him, ready to grab his hand and take him wherever it is they’re supposed to go. 


End file.
